Thanksgiving.....in Haiti.

Sometimes you forget which holidays are American and which holidays are worldwide. Thanksgiving is an American holiday (in case you have forgotten - a few people asked us how they celebrate Thanksgiving in Haiti).

We've also made several assumptions about Christmas that turned out to be wrong (e.g., you don't work on Christmas). We almost lost Christmas this week - Sharon and I are supposed to go along on a teacher's outing to another part of Haiti, a trip originally scheduled for December 22-24. On Monday the environmental education team extended the trip to return the morning of the 25th. No one else seemed to mind, though we attempted to change the date:

Sharon: Is Christmas not a big holiday here?
Fritzner, one of our coworkers: Oh yes, it's very big.
Sharon: Then how is it possible to schedule work for that day?
Fritzner: Oh, it's no problem.
Sharon (referencing the biggest holiday in Haiti): So if we were scheduled to come back on December 31, and we extended one day...
Fritzner, chuckling: No, that's impossible. We couldn't do that. January 1 is a big holiday.

What could we do? We're trying to be culturally flexible, so we shrugged our shoulders and had a tinge of resentment as Christmas was canceled for us. But as we sat in our weekly team meeting and discussed the calender for December, our director raised his eyebrows as he heard the new date. He's scheduled to go on this outing as well, but (fortunately!) he's also planning to go to Christmas Eve Mass at 6pm on the 24th and needs to be back before Christmas Day. So, in short, he saved Christmas for us.

Back to Thanksgiving. We started assembling our Haitian vegetarian Thanksgiving menu a few days before the 27th. We went to the market and bought all that we needed: pumpkins, onions, potatoes, meloton, etc. Our menu consisted of pumpkin soup, freshly-baked rolls, green papaya salad, faux-apple pie (with the meloton), fresh pineapple, and fried plantains. Unfortunately, we were so busy cooking we forgot to take photos.

We had a few visitors from the upper echelons of MCC who are here taking a survey of Haiti's disaster management practices, and we were happy to share our dinner with them (there were even 2 other Americans in the group!). We also Skyped with Sharon's family, who were finally able to see us through the magic of a borrowed computer with a working camera. It still wasn't quite the same as being at home, especially because we were the only people in town celebrating and we worked a full day at the office and were all a bit tired, but it was worth the extra time in the kitchen.

This meal was also the unveiling of our new pressure cooker (!) which should help us stretch our tank of gas every month. One thing that I do find amusing is that we have 4 turkeys who live in the yard we share with our landlord. They are funny birds (although terrifying when perched at eye level and you are walking to the outhouse in the dark and don't see them until the last minute) and I laugh every time I see them walk past our door. Whenever people asked if we were going to eat turkey, I told them it wouldn't have been that difficult. As you might have guessed, there isn't yet a market for tofurkey here!

Before eating, we asked each person to name one thing for which they are thankful for this year. Though we are often frustrated with our life here, we found ourselves genuinely grateful for things like being able to eat food from the backyard (papayas, squash). For friends who are becoming good friends. For the chance to experience life in a culture so totally different from ours (who knew that the other side of the world is just off the coast of Florida?). For family and friends at home who are in our thoughts every day.

Well, I hope everyone in the U.S. had a great Thanksgiving (and Black Friday - get that economy going before we get back in 2011, ha ha).

Happy Holidays,

Bryan

Weekend in the Lost Kingdom

A post in two movements: our weekend as we experienced it and a revelation of how little we actually know about Haitian culture.

We had heard that the island of Lagonav was a difficult place to visit, so we weren't that excited when we heard that we would be spending a long weekend there to visit a partner, Lekol Komunite Matenwa Pou Devlopman (LKMPD), or the Matenwa Community School. We've also heard that Lagonav residents are among the poorest in Haiti, that communities are regularly wiped out by flooding, deforestation was almost total, and that traversing the island is so difficult that no accurate map of the interior actually exists.

Despite what we'd heard (and finding out last-minute that we'd be staying not at the school but with a family, which can be quite hit-or-miss), we found at least one corner of the island to be a charmed place. In Matenwa, there's an active reforestation program (Step 1: convince the community), people there seem to be habituated to blans (they made jokes! they didn't ask for money!), and being in the mountains was a cool and refreshing change (long sleeves! easy sleeping!).

Our coworkers wanted to take a fly-boat, so we soared across the 20 miles between the Haitian mainland and Lagonav (despite the one return to the dock because the boat was overloaded by a few people). We also wondered about the setup on the next boat over, a sailboat with a Toyota at the prow, and an engine to assist:




We also got to visit an artisanal collective, where we watched a woman working on a silk painting that will be sold in Boston. There we spied the following note from one demanding Deirdre, who wants details:


And sunsets! Usually the sun sinks quietly behind a mountain in Dezam, a fact we didn't realize until we saw the likes of this:


However, we started to realize that we have only scratched the surface of Creole in the following exchanges:

Me: How many children does your mother have?
Our host: My mother has 8 children. I have 6 sisters.
Me: So you have 1 brother.
Host: No, I have 3 brothers.
Me, adding frantically in my head: ??
Host (to her youngest sister, who looks significantly younger than our host): Go get the the picture of all of us.
The pi ti fi, returning: Here you go.
The photo, taken at a wedding, is of newlyweds, another woman, and three young girls standing in front of the adults.
A pause.
Host: Oh, these kids are actually nieces.

Later:
Host's husband: How long have you been married?
Bryan: About 4 years.
Me: How about you?
Host's husband: I'm 29 years old.

Since you're only getting my translation, which reflects my confusion, you can be sure a major cause of us misunderstanding was our insufficient Creole! However, we also had several awkward moments like these:

Saturday morning, 7:15 a.m.:
Sister of 6-to-9 Siblings: Oh, did you want breakfast before your meeting? Are you leaving now?
Bryan & me, not sure if that's what we should request, but also not knowing where else to buy food: Um... in a little while...
Twenty-Nine: Oh, you're leaving after you eat, right?
Sister of 6-to-9: Okay.

She disappears for about 45 minutes, while we stand around furiously whispering about whether we should wait for food and show up late to our scheduled 8:00 a.m. meeting (and, of course, we had no cell reception on the mountain) or whether we should assume she's not making food for us and we should try to find food somewhere along the way. Around 8:15, though, breakfast was on the table and we were on our way shortly thereafter. (And the people we were meeting were even later than that, so no harm done.)

In reflecting on the weekend, we realized:
1. When we stay in the homes of other Americans, there is a lot of attention to arranging details. "What time will you wake up?" "Will you be eating breakfast here?" When I ask, "Do you have toilet paper?" the American answer isn't usually, "Oh, do you need that? I didn't have time to buy any."
2. In the U.S., a boat driver who felt that the boat was overloaded by 3 people wouldn't let 4 new people board, then return to the dock and make several other people get off.
3. There are probably good and logical reasons for the above.

We realized that we've been taking our own culture for granted: even after being here for over 3 months, we still assume that being American is being part of a neutral culture, that being American is the norm. Seeing ourselves through others' eyes ("Why don't they understand family structures? Why are they so obtuse about mealtimes?") reminds me that American culture, however globalized, is still totally foreign in many parts of the world. Fortunately.

And LKMPD? It actually turned out to be a wonderful school with progressive programming for each grade. We briefly visited classrooms, observed a hands-on lesson about seed germination, and checked out the school's garden. Spending 8 minutes on the following is well worth your time:

Sad things.

Being in Haiti has its ups and downs, and one of the things I dislike more than most is when you can't be with your family when loved ones die. My grandmother, Lois Thompson, passed away on Saturday after spending her final weeks at home with family and friends. Feelings of guilt creep in pretty easily for me, and I feel as if I should be home for this. Please remember her and my family in your prayers and thoughts.

Also, on Friday a school collapsed in Port-au-Prince. For a country that has ongoing daily problems with food security, unemployment, and the like, this is yet another tragedy. We were in the city this past weekend - market women are talking about it, and people are following the news as the search for survivors continues. Please pray for the families affected by this tragedy. If you want to read more about this, you can do so here.

The great outdoors

Matt, Esther, and their daughter Gabriela (MCCers formerly working in our positions) are visiting this week, and introduced us to an amazing hike up through a river.

Gorgeous, no?

Hiking to a school in Wopisa this week, Friztner, Esther, and I discovered a pretty waterfall along the trail. This is one of the few places I've ever seen people actually drinking water from the wild.

Esther's pants are well-camouflaged, but you can see her forging ahead. Yep, that's the actual trail.

One of the unsung wonders of Haiti, a mapou tree.

What's not to love here?